Don't Know Much About History
by TheSecretCity
Summary: For the July TV prompt challenge. Reid decides to use his physics magic to get back at Strauss. Rated for language.
1. Don't Know Much About History

**Don't Know Much About History**

**Derek Morgan was watching Spencer Reid, BAU kid genius extraordinaire, sit at his desk and build what appeared to be an explosive of some variety. He was bent over a series of film canisters that he had glued together, pushing hair out of his face and muttering.**

"**Kid," Morgan tried. "Hey, kid."**

**Reid snapped his head up. "Did you see Hotch?"**

"**Uh, no."**

**Reid bent over his work again. "Good. He said no physics magic."**

"**Are you doing physics magic?"**

**Reid nodded.**

**Morgan looked both ways and joined Reid at his desk. :Where are you going to blow it up at?"**

**Reid checked both ways. "Strauss's office."**

"**You lost your MIND?"**

"**Morgan, shut up! God, I didn't want **_**everyone**_** to know."**

**Morgan immediately lowered his voice. "Sorry. You're going to blow that thing up in Strauss's office?"**

"**Yep."**

"**Why?"**

"**Because she's a bitch."**

**Morgan blinked. Reid never cursed.**

"**Because she's a bitch," Reid repeated. "She's been on Hotch's ass since forever, she yells at JJ, and I heard her call me an autistic savant. I'm not autistic."**

"**I know that. Is this gonna kill her?"**

"**No, but if she stands too close it might light her hair on fire. It's not meant to mix with mousse or perfume, I can't predict the chemical reaction without samples. Mostly it'll dump gook all over her paperwork."**

"**Won't everyone know you did it?"**

"**I'm taking precautions."**

"**Kid, I may not know much, but isn't it a little suspicious that you're building this thing in the bullpen, and it'll explode in Strauss's office?"**

"**No."**

"**Why not?"**

"**She asked me to build something for her son's science fair project. Not my fault."**

"**I may not know much, but won't the intent be clear?"**

"**She's not a profiler. I'll be back."**

**And Reid snatched up his creation and half-ran out, nearly totaling the mail girl, a stray agent, and Aaron Hotchner.**

**Hotch looked at Reid's back, then at Morgan.**

"**Don't ask me, man," Morgan shrugged. "I think he's finally lost it."**

**. . . . . . . . . . .**

**Reid was back at his desk for twenty minutes when there was an ungodly shrieking and something purple in a green suit came into the BAU.**

"**Reid!" the purple-green thing was carrying on. "What the hell was that, you little brat, you-"**

"**Ma'am?" Reid asked. **

**The lights went on for Morgan. The ugly collection of color before him was none other then Erin Strauss herself.**

"**Ma'am, I was very specific when I said not to shake it."**

"**I picked it up! I lifted it, Agent Reid, and it exploded all over me and left me **_**purple**_**."**

**Morgan thought about saying that she was lucky she hadn't caught fire, and they weren't so lucky by the same token, but kept his trap closed.**

"**I apologize, ma'am."**

**That alone wasn't going to satisfy Strauss, and Reid was going to explode himself, Morgan could see that. **

**So he did what any big brother would.**

"**Ma'am," Morgan got up. "I'm sure he didn't mean for it to explode on you. I'll help you get it cleaned up."**

"**I don't need saved, Agent Morgan," she informed him icily. "Good afternoon."**

**And with a swish of expensive, ruined garments, she was gone.**

**Dead silence.**

**And then, from upstairs, from a corner office scarier then Erin Strauss's, came Hotch's voice.**

"**Nice one, Reid. I hope Garcia get me a copy of the tape."**

**The whole bullpen looked up. There was Hotch, calmly drinking coffee and reading a report. With a lovely smile on his face. **

**That's when the cheer went up, agents and office workers slapping Reid on the back, offering drinks and congratulations. Reid offered Morgan a shy smile.**

"**Thanks."**

"**I may not know much, kid, but I know better then to prank without a wingman."**

"**Next time I'll include you."**

"**Fair enough."**

**FINIS**

**Author's Note: When I get depressed, I try to write something funny enough to make me grin. This did it for me. You?**


	2. PartnersInSpores

Partners-In-Spores

About a week after the Strauss debacle, when people had stopped randomly coming up to Reid to tell him he had to have iron balls to have turned her purple by explosion, Strauss was at it again.

This time, she'd laid into Garcia, who had cried so hard her mascara had run and ruined her whole face. She was currently hiding in the bullpen. Morgan, Rossi, and Prentiss were all trying to make her feel better.

Reid had started taking things out of his desk. "Morgan?"

Morgan looked at the growing collection of items on Reid's desk. "Need a wingman, kid?"

Reid nodded. Garcia gave a small giggle, and even Rossi stopped vowing revenge on Strauss for a minute to watch.

Morgan sat across from Reid. "We got a plan?"

"Yeah," Reid began to assemble things in a spray bottle. "I'm going to melt her desk. You're going to make sure she doesn't catch me."

"We've got cameras."

"Not in the air vents."

"Can you fit in one of those?"

"No, but if you spray into one at the right time, it'll carry into her office and melt something."

"That's not acid, is it?"

Reid shook his head. "A fast-growing fungus. Give it two days."

"So when she comes back after the weekend-"

"Exactly."

Rossi nodded. "I'm going to make sure Hotch doesn't see any of this."

"Good idea," Reid agreed.

Rossi gave Garcia a last one-armed hug and went up the stairs to Hotch's office.

"Reid?" Garcia said. "Thank you. I can't wreck her hard drive without being a suspect."

"I hate Strauss," Reid informed her, not looking up.

"He means 'You're welcome'," Morgan translated.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Morgan was ready. At Reid's nod from the bullpen, he intercepted Erin Strauss on her way back from her latest meeting.

"Ma'am?"

She turned. Now he had to keep her occupied for two minutes thirty seconds.

There was still a bit of a purple cast to her hair.

"Yes, Agent Morgan?"

"When I made that offer of helping you clean, it wasn't meant as any kind of put-down, ma'am. Reid doesn't always get that people aren't as into experiments as he is. I was just trying to rectify the mistake made."

Strauss was considerable more polite now that she was her proper color. "I apologize for snapping at you as well, Agent Morgan."

"You were correct to be irritated. Did your son's project come out alright, despite the accident?"

"Actually, Agent Reid's device proved useful after all. Ben was able to correct what made it explode. He said it almost looked like it was on purpose."

"Even geniuses make errors." Morgan agreed blandly.

"I'm sure. Anything else, Agent Morgan?"

Thirty seconds. "Garcia wanted to know if there's something she can do to redeem herself."

"Don't ever let me catch her using the wireless network to play games on government time again."

"You won't," catch her, Morgan added mentally. Garcia had been caught once, she was never caught twice.

"Good. I'll see you later, Agent Morgan."

"Ma'am."

When he got back to the bullpen, Reid was extracting himself from above the maintenance closet, spray bottle in hand, grinning.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Strauss had to take a vacation starting Monday, due to an infestation of fungus in her office, for a whole week. Actually, the whole floor-including the BAU units not on a case, like theirs-was given the week off due to the nature of the mold, which had apparently been engineered to grow ten times faster then in nature, and terrorist involvement wasn't out of the question. Rossi invited everyone to his house for the duration, and offered Reid the use of his basement for any other creations he wanted to make specifically for Strauss, since the last two had been such rousing successes.

Author's Note: I got so many responses, including for more of this story, that I had to pursue it.


	3. Skittles Defeats Me

Skittles Defeats Me

It wasn't often Morgan heard Hotch curse. In fact, he could count the times on one hand-once after Haley left him when he'd gotten drunk, once when he'd woken up after an unsub had whacked him with a two-by-four, and once when they'd first joined the BAU and Strauss had somehow 'accidentally' dropped a box of files directly onto his foot.

This made time number four.

Hotch was in his office, and whatever his issue was, he was cursing with a surprising fluency and pounding on something on his desk.

He and Reid exchanged looks. They were back after the mold escapade, and Strauss was staying firmly behind her doors. According to Garcia she hadn't even called Hotch. So whatever it was that irritated him, it wasn't Strauss.

"Don't look at me, kid."

They both looked up at Hotch's office again, then back at each other. Then, since Rossi was busy harassing Garcia about something and couldn't be counted on the fix this, nor was Prentiss close to hand, they went up.

"Hotch! What's the problem, man?" Morgan asked through the door. Reid was peeking over his shoulder.

Hotch looked up, flustered, his normally perfect hair pointing in six directions.

"I handle serial killers on a daily basis. I deal with goddamn Erin Strauss every other day. Generally I do those things well, don't I?"

"Sure, man," Morgan wished they had never come up. This was a 'Hotch is having a breakdown get Rossi up here stat' mess. He had nothing to help him deal with that.

"I am a competent person with a damn law degree. I have talked judges into dizzy circles. So please explain to me how the _hell_ I am being defeated by a package of _fucking Skittles_?"

Reid giggled silently into Morgan's back. Morgan had no one's back to giggle into, so he had to not break a rib and help Hotch with his problem.

It didn't go well.

He and Reid were laughing all over each other. "Sorry, man. Hey! Wait!"

Hotch had taken the package of Skittles and launched it like a missile, which skimmed Morgan's head. That was followed by a paperweight and a telephone.

"Shit!" Morgan dragged Reid behind him down the stairs as Hotch followed with various airborne weapons-a stapler, a box of paper clips, a spare clip for his gun, and other things that were too fast to identify. "Chill out, man!"

"You and the horse you rode in on!" Hotch answered, and slammed the office door to keep them out.

The silence was deafening.

They hid behind Morgan's desk, panting.

"Morgan."

"I know, kid. We may have to take him to the funny farm for real this time."

"It was about Skittles."

"I know."

"You laughed at him."

"You were giggling first."

"I don't giggle."

"You did. Into my back. I couldn't help it. It was contagious."

"So it's my fault we were almost killed by UFOs from Hotch's desk?"

"You were a significant factor."

"It was your decision to go up."

"Shut up, Reid. See if he's looking down here."

"No way. What if he throws a hand grenade next?"

Rossi came in the BAU doors with Prentiss. They looked at Reid and Morgan, at the trail of debris, and at Hotch's office. Prentiss looked at them again.

"Was he trying to open Skittles by himself?"

Reid nodded, and Rossi did after him.

"I thought he was all up on Skittles when we left," Rossi commented to Prentiss.

"So did I. Damn, he might be onto us."

"Hang on," Morgan interrupted. "On to you two what?"

"Opening his Skittles," Prentiss explained. "One of us does it when his back is turned so that he doesn't do this tailspin thing when he can't get the package open."

"You missed a package," Reid informed them.

"I know I didn't, Dave. They were all open in his desk when I left."

"He must have gotten another from vending, then."

"You or me?"

"You. You're less threatening. I'll clean up," Rossi waved at the office supplies. "But I gotta ask, you two-"

"Don't," Morgan advised, getting up from his crouch and giving Reid a hand up.

"We won't help him with candy anymore," Reid promised. "Or try to."

"They laughed," Rossi announced, getting Hotch's cell phone and Skittles, both of which went into Prentiss's hands. Prentiss nodded.

The two profilers experienced enough-or, alternately, crazy enough-to deal with Hotch's candy meltdown went to clean up.

Morgan shook his head. "I thought Strauss was nuts."

"She is. And I had an idea."

Morgan was already shaking his head. "We're still getting the stink eye from the last thing you did. I hope we'll be let live if she finds out about the fungus."

"Morgan-"

"No."

"One hour at Home Depot. That's all. And a wingman."

"Kid-"

"Come on!"

Author's Note: I actually did have an incident similar to Hotch's with a package of Skittles like you get going through the checkout. Could not get that bitch open for love nor money. I had to stab the package open once I got home-with a steak knife. Although, my breakdown didn't involve flying objects!

And thank you for all the reviews! Reviews make me write more! Hugs!


	4. The Depot Incident

The Depot Incident

Reid was persuasive, despite the fact that if you made him engage in public speaking he turned a shade of vermillion seldom glimpsed since the middle ages. That was how Morgan found himself pushing a cart through Home Depot at 3 PM on a workday.

Admittedly, after Hotch's meltdown, everyone but Prentiss and Rossi had evicted Hotch's immediate orbit. Garcia and JJ were locked in their offices. Since neither Morgan nor Reid had offices, they escaped the building entirely.

"Okay kid, what's this master plan of yours?"

"I need lots of duct tape," Reid was reading from the list in his head. "And a bucket. And rope."

"What kind?"

"Of rope? Nylon."

"No. Tape."

Reid looked at Morgan as if he now possessed a second head growing out of the back of his original one. "There's only one kind of duct tape, Derek."

"No, there isn't," happy to be the one knowing more for once, he ticked off differences on his fingers. "Width, thickness, color, length of roll. There was one other thing but I can't remember it right now."

"Pink," Reid decided. "Wide, pink, but not too thick. A five-gallon bucket. Nylon rope. And screws."

"Why do we need all this?"

"Part of the master plan," he was informed by a swiftly disappearing genius. He sighed and shoved the cart after him. How had he wound up driving? Oh yeah, Reid ran into things. They'd gone food shopping once and Reid had nearly killed the salesman with his insane rocketing from aisle to aisle, and knocked over a large display of canned corn. Never again. Morgan had had to restack that mess himself, since Reid had continued on his madcap adventure in food shopping and crashed into a wall. While the EMT stitched him up, Morgan had repaired (most of the) damage. The salesman had probably needed therapy.

He relocated Reid debating the merits of buckets with another salesman, who was looking frustrated as Reid chattered on obliviously.

"Kid!" Morgan whacked him upside the head lightly. "Leave the people alone, okay? I'll help you pick the stuff out. I do home improvement, you know."

"Oh, right. Sorry." The salesman melted away gratefully. "I need it to be sturdy enough to hold water and balance."

It took Morgan all of two seconds to dump the right one in the cart. "What else?"

Getting the rope and screws was easy, for shopping with Reid. Then came the duct tape.

Morgan knew Reid did odd things-not just reading at illegal speeds, but honestly odd things. Like he'd caught Reid collecting paper scraps more then once. Just blank paper scraps that he kept neatly catalogued.

Or that he alphabetized his wardrobe according to Japanese rules.

Or that he found great pleasure in making towers of pebbles in his living room, like mountains around his TV.

It was all nothing next to Reid's duct tape problem. Which apparently he hadn't had until Morgan informed him there was more then one color of the thick, shiny stuff.

"This is awesome. Do you see this? This is awesome."

"Kid, it's an aisle of duct tape."

"I _never knew_ about this!"

Morgan could feel a Reid-induced migraine coming on. He'd have to lock himself up with Clooney all weekend to get rid of it. And it was only Thursday.

Reid was going at hyper speed, touching all the rolls of tape as he went.

"Pick a roll!" Morgan ordered loudly.

"I never knew about this!" "Kid, so help me God, if you don't pick a roll so we can get the hell out of here before Hotch notices we left and blows his stack again, I will drag you out and lock you in the trunk of the car. You hear?"

"Just a minute. This is-"

"Reid! Bright pink duct tape and let's ride!"

They were yelling at each other down the aisle, and apparently disturbing someone, because a manager came over.

"Excuse me," the consensus seemed to be that Morgan was in charge, because that's who the manager picked to speak to.

"I apologize for the noise. We'll be gone in a few minutes," Morgan assured him in his best conciliatory cop voice.

"Please impress upon your…friend that he needs to keep his voice down as well."

"I will."

He drove the cart up and nudged Reid with it. "Kid, we are unwelcome."

"No we're not."

"Reid, you want me to call Hotch?"

Reid threw his three rolls of duct tape in the cart. One was pink, another purple, and there was a pearly blue as well. "All done."

"Good. Cause these people are looking at us funny."

"No they're not." "How do you know?"

"Because I always get funny looks."

Morgan had to concede that point.

While in the checkout-after bailing Reid by forking over some twenties, damn but the kid was expensive, maybe his mother would adopt him and share the bills in lieu of grandchildren-his phone rang. It was Hotch. He only said one word before hanging up.

"Busted."

Aw _shit_.

Author's Note: Be it known that I've only had about three hours of sleep as I write this. So if it's incoherent, you know why-lack of stimulants.


	5. The Pom Pom and Duct Tape Incident

The Pom Pom and Duct Tape Incident

Morgan so did not want to go back to the office. Hotch was at the office. Hotch was out for blood.

Reid was oblivious to the mortal danger they were in. They had already been nearly killed by flying Skittles and almost thrown out of Home Depot. Now Hotch really was going to kill them.

Back in the bullpen, he looked up at Hotch's office. Hotch pointed at him, at Reid, and made a beckoning finger.

"Come on, kid," Morgan sighed.

"Huh? Where we going?"

Morgan pointed at Hotch's office.

"Damn."

"Exactly. Now come on."

Hotch was in his usual temper-scowl in place and all the rest. "Did you two have anything to do with this?"

"With what? We were at Home Depot," Reid offered. Morgan wanted to elbow him but Hotch would've seen.

"And you didn't set this up before you left?"

"No. We were hiding from random flying objects."

That time Morgan did elbow Reid. "Will you let me handle this before we're on paperwork duty for a month or five?"

"Then maybe you can tell me who did make this?"

And Hotch moved so Morgan could finally see what they were being accused of.

Apparently, at some point, someone had come in and duct taped some frilly pink pom poms to Hotch's desk. The kind that were on little girls' bikes. And they were shedding sparkles all over the official paperwork, including some reports for Strauss.

To demonstrate the depth of the offense, Hotch took up a report and tried to shake the sparkles off. They didn't move.

"Brilliant," was Reid's first comment.

"No shit," Morgan shook his head. The simplicity was astounding, as was the balls behind doing it. Hotch would crucify whoever had done that.

"Either way," Hotch interrupted. "You two are the resident pranksters. Go find who did this. Bring them here. And how do I get the duct tape off my desk without ruining it?"

"You just pull it off very slowly," Reid judged the amount of tape on the desk. "I estimate that it'll take about two hours for that much."

They both took off before Hotch could recruit.

. . . . . . . . . . .

Morgan and Reid conferenced in the bullpen. Like any other time they had to find an unsub, they started with a profile.

"Okay, so our unsub has the guts to pull this off," Morgan began.

"A lot of confidence," Reid agreed. "Also, they wouldn't seem out of place in Hotch's office."

"So they work here in the bullpen, or at least on this floor."

"You don't think Garcia did it, do you?"

It did seem like a Garcia-esque crime. "I know how we can find out. Let's ask her to pull the tapes from when we were out."

Garcia was happy to pull tapes, but it didn't show anyone but Rossi or Prentiss going in and out of Hotch's office, least of all with supplies. And it was hard to see if Rossi carried anything, since the camera was pointed at the bullpen and not at any point above the kneecaps on the level where their offices were.

"Rossi might do something like that. He's confident enough," Reid pointed out.

"But wouldn't he be covered in sparkles? Wait, if he kept it in a bag-"

Garcia piped up. "Rossi came in with a grocery bag this morning."

"Got him, then," Morgan announced.

They were on their way to tell Hotch when Reid stopped him. "What if we pranked Rossi back for Hotch? Then he won't be able to make us do paperwork."

"I'm listening."

"Keep him in the bullpen for five minutes when he comes down for his next cup of coffee."

. . . . . . . . . . .

By the end of the day, Rossi was in his office cussing. Not an unusual occurrence by itself, but the object of his cursing was on his desk.

How Reid had done it, Morgan had no idea. But there was hot pink duct tape all over his nice leather chair, pearly blue across the top of his desk-including reports-and a magic marker drawing of the well-known _Kilroy Was Here!_ sign from the forties.

It had taken the resident genius all of twenty minutes to wreck that havoc. Now both Hotch and Rossi had to scrap duct tape off their desks. And since Hotch was almost done, it looked like the pleasure was all Rossi's.

Hotch had observed the mayhem that was David Rossi yanking and pulling at duct tape, then visited Morgan and Reid.

"Him?"

"Yep," Reid agreed.

"Nice job, guys."

"Thanks."

Once Hotch was safely out of hearing range, Reid leaned over to Morgan. "He liked it."

\ "Nuh-uh, kid. We barely escaped the last couple times. No way."

"But we've got supplies now! And I came up with some cool stuff at Rossi's, too."

"Lay off, brother."

"Morgan!"

Author's Note: This chapter was from the Prompt Set 1 of the TV Prompts-Sabrina, The Teenaged Witch-The Pom Pom Incident


	6. Hiccups and Miniature Crossbows

Hiccups and Mini Crossbows

It had been very quiet at the office for the past three days. Even Hotch was looking at Morgan and Reid suspiciously. They hadn't pulled any pranks since Rossi's desk-and-chair. He was still mad at them.

Morgan, bent over reports, felt something in the back of his throat. And hiccupped.

He saw Reid's head snap up and swish from side to side. He tried to suppress it, but hiccupped again. Damn it, he did _not_ hiccup. Especially not in the friggin' BAU bullpen, for God's sake.

Reid's eyes focused on him. "Morgan?"

"Shut *hic* up."

"Do you have hiccups?"

"What does *hic* it sound *hic* like?"

"Geez, keep your pants on."

Reid bent over what he was doing. It appeared to be made of pens, tape, and other office supplies. And Reid wouldn't tell him what it was unless he asked, which meant opening his mouth.

"What *hic* is that?"

"A crossbow. Well, a mini crossbow. I got this book called _Mini Weapons of Mass Destruction_. Since Hotch told me no more physics magic I figured I could make other stuff."

"He's gonna *hic* skin you a *hic* live."

"Why? I won't shoot him with it. How are you going to get rid of your hiccups?"

"Wait."

"Weight helps? Oh, you mean wait for them to go away. Well, you could always drink water upside down."

"Huh?" Monosyllabic words were good. At least he didn't sound like a five-year-old.

"Take a mouthful of water and bend forward, like you're going to put your head between your knees, then swallow. Just be careful or you'll choke yourself to death. But either way you won't have any more hiccups."

"You're *hic* strange, kid."

"Very true. I need a target to test this on."

He looked around the bullpen for a likely victim. Rossi was reading a report on the second level. Reid's eyes lit up.

"No *hic* way, kid."

But the hiccups got in the way, and Reid let his crossbow, pens acting as arrows, fly loose. Because of the angle, they skimmed Rossi's jacket. He didn't even look up as it tore through his jacket, but when he tried to move and realized he was _penned_ to the wall behind him. He began to cuss and tug.

Reid prudently hid the crossbow under his desk as Rossi raised his voice and added some choice Italian words. Hotch came out of his office.

"Dave?"

"Those maniacs of yours attacked me!"

"What?"

Rossi gestured to the bullpen. "Doctor Destructo and Assistant Doom."

Morgan hiccupped, hand over his mouth. Hopefully he didn't look like he was snorting with laughter.

Hotch eyed Reid with deep-seated suspicion, pulled the 'arrow' out of Dave's coat, and left the legendary profiler to complain about the hole in his jacket. He looked back at Reid.

"That's enough, Reid," he said, while Reid sat innocently at his desk, saying nothing. The Hotch went back to his office, and Rossi retreated into his own.

Morgan leaned over. "You were busted."

"Your hiccups are gone."

"Adrenaline rush from fear of being publicly gutted."

"Fear or surprise are very effective at getting rid of hiccups. The adrenaline-"

"Reid?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Author's Note: Sorry for so short! It was a spur of the moment idea, because when I was at Borders I actually saw a book called _Mini Weapons of Mass Destruction_, which just looked like Reid's kind of book. Unfortunately, I'd already spent my book budget on Dean Koontz paperbacks and couldn't get it, too. But there is a mini crossbow in there. And the hiccup cure does work, but as Reid pointed out, at a health risk. Ciao!


	7. Why You Should Lock the Bathroom Door

**Why You Should Lock the Bathroom Door**

**Morgan had learned from living with two sisters to always knock on a bathroom door before entering, and always lock it behind you. **

**Reid, apparently, had been given no such education. Then again, his mother had probably not noticed him wandering in and out of bathrooms, either. **

**This wasn't a good time for an education in that subject.**

**The police station in Selkirk, Iowa, had one bathroom with three stalls. It was coed, so the sheriff had posted a handwritten 'Knock on Stalls, Doors Don't Lock' sign on the outside.**

**The first indication that something was wrong was after Reid disappeared. About three seconds later a woman shrieked and Morgan could hear things thudding on the walls of the bathroom. He held up a hand to keep the deputy from going in.**

"**I've got it, thanks."**

**He cracked open the bathroom door. A rather attractively dark woman had Reid literally backed into the corner stall, with his pants hanging down. His gun was on the floor, and he held his hands up for peace.**

"**Ma'am?" Morgan caught her hand before she could hit Reid with her purse again.**

"**That little perv-he was-for God's sake this is the ladies room! Why are you here?"**

"**Ma'am, this is the only restroom," Morgan explained, realizing this was JJ's media contact from the city nearby.**

"**What? What?"**

"**It's a coed restroom, ma'am. Men and women."**

"**Of all the uncivilized-"**

"**Are you finished trying to kill my partner with your handbag, ma'am?"**

"**The officer said that this was the ladies' room!"**

"**What exactly did the officer say? Did he say this was the ladies' room, or did you ask for the ladies' room and get directed here?"**

"**The latter."**

"**So then, he never actually called this the ladies' room?"**

**She was breathing out her nose like a bull. "No."**

"**Then can you either calm down and use another stall, or wait outside until you calm down and then use the restroom?"**

**I am negotiating bathroom rights for Reid, Morgan thought. Pathetic.**

"**I'll wait," she snapped, and exited.**

**Morgan and Reid looked at each other. "Thanks," Reid said, bright red and pulling his pants up.**

**Morgan started to chuckle. "Her face…"**

**Reid began to grin, too. "You'd think I was a booger on her shoe."**

"**Or her handbag."**

"**Lady can hit, too. I might need ice."**

"**Reid, is there no way to lock these things?"**

"**Not really. The locks were jammed. All we'd really need is something like a nail file to keep the door attached to the stall."**

"**Maybe we should start carrying those with us to avoid these kinds of things."**

"**Or leave a post-it note on the stall."**

"**Or leave a shoe under the stall door."**

"**Or one of Hotch's ties over the door."**

"**Kid, I don't have a death wish."**

"**Good point."**

**Reid washed his hands. **

"**Ready?" Morgan asked.**

"**She might kill me."**

"**Na. She thinks you're cute."**

"**She thinks I'm a perv, Morgan."**

"**Girls think all guys are pervs."**

"**Really?"**

"**Well, it's never been a barrier to a relationship."**

"**Morgan? Just shut up, okay? I have to go back out there after being saved from a rabid reporter."**

"**She looks like more of an idiot, stomping around and yelling about ladies' rooms."**

"**Yeah. And I still had to be saved. So shut up."**

**Author's Note: I saw this title in the February TV prompts and did a little happy dance, because it seemed to fit so perfect with Morgan and Reid's misadventures!**


End file.
